


Angels We Have Heard On High

by koldtblod



Series: The Moonstar Lodge Reunion [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: AU, Also have a little bit of Violet backstory, Alternate Universe, Christmas, Christmas Eve, DING DONG MERRILY ON HIGH THE CHRISTMAS BELLS ARE RINGING, Established Relationship, F/F, Gen, Something About Summer: A Continuation, The trouble with turkey, This entire series has been me getting a bit too invested in everyone else's relationships, Your fave Illinois-based reporter is back to spend Christmas with the family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27800737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koldtblod/pseuds/koldtblod
Summary: Violet hasn't had too many enjoyable Christmases, but this year will be different.
Relationships: Clementine/Violet (Walking Dead: Done Running)
Series: The Moonstar Lodge Reunion [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056770
Kudos: 11





	Angels We Have Heard On High

**Author's Note:**

> What's up my guys?!
> 
> Welcome to the second (although... technically, the fourth) instalment in this series. I'm a big fan of Christmas, a big fan of traditional pastimes and oho boy, I needed a little bit of light relief after writing and reading nothing but angst for months. I won't lie, a little bit has crept in because it's me. But in context, I think it works? Let me know.
> 
> There will be further additions to this series, so stick around. I might even suggest... Subscribe, Bookmark... Whatever you want! They will backdate this, but what can I say? I can't very well post a Christmas fic in the middle of Spring 2021.

Violet hasn't experienced many enjoyable Christmases.

She might be simplifying it or, as Louis frequently tells her, it's possible that Violet has a selective memory and that she chooses to overlook the good things in her life in favour of the bad.

Nevertheless, this year, she's optimistic.

She finishes her shift at midday on Christmas Eve, awkwardly wishes her mom a Merry Christmas, and then hops into Clementine's waiting car outside the diner to speed back to join the Everett household, where festivities had begun on December 1st.

Clementine loves Christmas. She says she always has, always will and, as a result, has gone slightly overboard on the presents. Violet has already seen the stack — "hidden" — in the corner of Clem's bedroom, with the name tags dictating that over half are for her. Violet has done her absolute best, so she doubts Clem will be disappointed, but she's certain her gifts aren't nearly as luxurious. 

At least she knows the Disco Broccoli plush for AJ will be well-received, as will the Frankie Valli record she found for Lee.

The house of course is completely done up.

Three weeks ago, Violet had helped the family pick a tree from the lot and, after mounting it firmly in the corner of the living room, had spent the best part of Sunday afternoon lifting AJ into the air, so that he could place the baubles on the highest branches. There is tinsel around every doorknob, running up the stair bannister, and there is either a wreath or an assortment of Christmas cards on every door in the house. Even AJ's treehouse has been decorated with lights, thanks to Lee, although this along with the expanse of the garden is currently covered under a thick blanket of snow.

Now, they're pulling into the driveway. The house is lit up from the inside out and Violet can see Lee through the window, wearing his Christmas sweater.

"Nothing too demanding," Clementine reiterates, for the 50th time, as she turns off the engine. "If things get weird..."

"I know," says Violet. "I'll tell you."

Clementine nods.

She doesn't take off her seatbelt however and Violet doesn't move, just watches instead as Carley comes into view beside Lee with a sprig of mistletoe.

"Are you excited?" Clementine asks.

"Ya," says Violet. She feels herself smile. "I am, actually."

"Good," says Clementine. "I've never spent Christmas with someone else before, you know, other than family."

"So no pressure, huh?"

"Shut up," Clem tells her. "Come on, I'll grab the presents."

They've made it no further than three steps into the house before Carley's head appears around the doorway to the living room, and she's saying,

"Ooh, she's here!"

She's only met Violet once before, on Clementine's birthday, but regardless she comes at her with open arms. She's really got herself settled into the family and Lee, when he follows on, has a bright red kiss of lipstick over his mouth as testament.

"We've been talkin' about the turkey," he says, as Violet manages to extract herself. "I'm tryin' to follow that recipe, but..."

"He's overthinking it," says Carley.

"I don't want it to go wrong."

"If you can make it for Sunday dinner, you make it for Christmas!"

"Well, yeah," says Lee, "but there's more to lose."

"It'll be fine!"

Clementine is smirking, shaking her head.

"Is it still soaking?"

"Yes!" says Lee. "And it has been —" He points to Violet now. "Listen to this — for two days! I think I need to take it out."

"You don't," insists Carley. "Not until tonight."

"You've been here all of 24 hours —"

"And I still know what's right. Look, take those bags — when are we allowed to open the prosecco? Everyone's home now!"

"Pass," says Clem.

"When Omid arrives."

"Well, he's only next door, I can go and get him—"

"Carley, no!"

With shared grins and titters, Violet and Clementine leave the adults digging at each other over drinks and turkey and head through to the living room. The fire is roaring and AJ is lying on his stomach in front of the television watching _The Muppets Christmas Carol_.

It's one of the few rare occasions he hasn't jumped to greet Violet.

"Is _Die Hard_ a Christmas movie," she asks, before Clem can make good on her effect to tackle him on the floor, "or not?"

"No," says Clem. "Oh, are we doing this again?"

"I think it is," says Violet.

"So does Lee! I'm not watching it later."

"We're watching _Home Alone_!" says AJ.

"You'll give him ideas."

"I know!" says Clem. "Yes, AJ, we are."

And she swoops down to tickle the exposed skin on his sides.

Later, Violet knows, they'll be going to Midnight Mass. Clem had explained a few days ago that the routine was very much the same every year — starting with a few drinks with their neighbours and followed by the Christmas movie. After, they set out a plate of milk and cookies for Santa and some carrots for his reindeer and then, finally, to tide them over into Christmas Day, climb into the car and head off to church.

Lee uses the opportunity, before the service, to solidify some last-minute changes in the upcoming arrangements with Kenny. Kenny often gets emotional and donates too much money when the collection comes around.

It'll be the first time Violet has stepped foot in a church since her grandmother's funeral. That in itself, at any time of year, is daunting but she's nervous about having to sing praise to God Almighty on Christmas Eve especially. 

Tidings of comfort and joy have always been difficult to find for the Aldons, even before Ericson. There were a couple of decent years with Minnie during their relationship, sure, but there is no getting around the fact that Violet can count on one hand the days in December spent without incident otherwise.

To say she remembers these with clarity would be a lie.

The only distinguishing factor of her Christmases past was whether or not there had been an argument (or worse, a fight) and so, whilst Louis may say that Violet only chooses to remember the bad, in reality, she'd give her right eye to forget.

If her mom isn't working, somehow it's worse. It’s a day of Violet trying not to broadcast her grievances while her mom attempts to rally the family together, spouting some bullshit about quality time and eventually growing frustrated with Violet for her passive dislike and with her husband for how much of the whiskey he’s drunk.

Violet suspects now, looking back, that it was her grandad keeping everything in order and without fuss. Every year since his death, it's been much the same.

Grandma's suicide had been a side effect.

Christmas has just never been the best time of year for Violet and she knows, without doubt, that being in church again will dredge up some happily ignored emotions.

She's told herself she's going to try, regardless.

For Clementine.

Clementine had stared at Violet for a long time when she initially told her that, _oh, y'know, just one year we spent Christmas Day in the emergency room and another we called the cops_ , and she'd told Violet they'd stay home instead if she preferred. It's taken several months for Violet to admit, out loud, to Clementine that blood is in fact not thicker than water in their house.

In their stuffy little trailer off the 441.

Violet had shaken her head.

She's desperate to prove she's not a mistake in Clementine's resume.

She watches as her girlfriend scuffles mercilessly with AJ on the floor — with him screaming through laughter that he's missing Kermit — and convinces herself all over again that she'll be alright.

The thought is derailed when Lee and Carley come back through from the kitchen. They are still talking about the turkey but at least Carley has a flute of prosecco in her hand and a very smug grin to match.

"Even Uncle Kenny didn't worry this much," Clementine tells them, when again Lee suggests changing the method, "and last year, he forgot to defrost it!"

"It's settled," says Carley. "Does anyone want a game of Monopoly?"

It goes on for far longer than anticipated.

In part, this is because a good deal of time is spent explaining the rules to AJ and then in trying to redistribute his lots and money when he decides he's fed up. Lee wrestles AJ into a coat and a woolly hat before he can dash out into the snow to play and returns five minutes later to find that Carley is waiting expectantly.

"You still owe me $600," she says, "for landing on Vine Street."

"I don't think that's very festive."

"Neither is leaving me with an empty glass!"

Omid and Christa do eventually call round, as the sky is beginning to darken outside, and bring with them a flurry of the weather and their baby son, Omid Jr. Everyone except Violet seems to take a turn in holding him, cooing over the dimples in his cheeks and the cheerful little elf on the front of his babygrow. Lee says he's starting to look a lot like his dad and that is enough of an excuse for Carley to run for the prosecco.

Two glasses later, and Omid is hiccuping.

He exclaims, rather merrily, that he's been supporting Christa's second pregnancy by also swearing off the alcohol — and needless to say, the bubbles have gone to his head.

The two women busy themselves with baby talk after that, whilst Lee pats Omid on the back and makes to lead him into the kitchen.

"Let me show you this turkey!"

Clementine, with Omid Jr. in her arms, reclines back onto the sofa beside Violet. He has a lot more hair than the last time Violet saw him, in the middle of summer, in the garden beneath a parasol. Clementine winds a lock of it around her finger.

"They're always like this," she says fondly.

"I can bet."

"You doing okay?"

"'Course," says Violet.

She means it, for now. She leans forward to jiggle lightly at one of the baby's outstretched socked feet and smiles when he laughs.

"Just gotta get through church."

Louis rings, at just gone seven o clock, when Omid and Christa are bidding their goodbyes and dinner is out of the way. In part, he wants to wish the Everetts a Merry Christmas and Clementine has been waiting for the call, but mostly he wants to gossip.

Everyone knows that Louis has been talking non-stop for days about how nervous and simultaneously excited he is, to be spending Christmas Day with both his own family and the Garcias — the lot of them. Someone had suggested bringing the households together, and now Louis' mom is flying out from Boston with her new boyfriend to spend the day with her estranged husband, son's girlfriend and immediate family, not to mention the sets of grandparents within close enough distance to flank each side.

"There are airbeds everywhere," Louis explains giddily, into the receiver. "There are _three_ turkeys — _and_ a leg of lamb — and Mom's only been here an hour and ordered a chestnut wellington because apparently, her boyfriend's a vegetarian! No one told me."

"Mariana's allergic to nuts," Clementine tells him with a laugh. "D'you know that?"

"Oh, fuck me."

There is far less drama, or so Clementine says, to be had at her own Christmas dinner. The only rules are to stock up on enough non-alcoholic PBR for Kenny to not feel like he's missing out and to keep AJ away from the tubs of chocolate.

Clementine covers the receiver of the phone as she explains this, as Louis prattles on the other side.

"And for Mariana," he's saying, "I've bought a necklace, that long sloth hot water bottle she kept talking about and some Heelys —"

"Some _what_?"

"Okay, hear me out!"

When Clementine hangs up, she scrunches her nose.

"I can't wait to see her in school," she says.

Violet fights with a grin.

As promised, Lee gathers them all around the television next to settle down with _Home Alone_. It's never been one of Violet's favourites, because of course, but Clementine gets a kick out of watching her little brother's eyes light up when Macaulay Culkin has the entire house to himself and, by proxy, so does Violet.

She wouldn't really mind if her parent's jetted off to Paris over the Christmas period. She mightn't be so adverse to Clementine ever seeing where she lived if her dad wasn't always in the armchair.

But that's not the point of the movie.

AJ is crying by the end, wrapped up in Lee's arms and burying his face into the 'Ho! Ho! Ho!' that's splashed across the front of Lee's sweater. AJ is trying very obviously not to display his tears but even Lee is a little choked up when he hushes him, saying,

"Hey, I'm not gonna leave you."

They have a big family hug, with Lee pressing kisses to both AJ and Clementine's heads and with Carley looping her arm around Lee's waist and petting everyone's hair. Violet looks away. She glances over at her empty glass and mumbles something about refilling it.

Standing in the kitchen then, staring at the turkey in the bucket of water, Violet feels the shudder ripple over her entire body. She's been scared, as well as excited. Spending the Christmas with her family is awful, yeah, but there's always the same risk to run when you spend it with someone else. Instead, Violet hears teary laughter echoing from the living room as Carley tells everyone they're not supposed to cry.

Violet could go back, but she doesn't.

She braces her hands on the countertop and focuses on the cool of the 

tile, hardly noticing she has company until Clementine is pressing in, against her shoulder.

"It's time," she says, with a kiss.

"Ya," says Violet, "I'm good, I'm jus' —"

"You can change your mind, you know. We can stay home."

"Hmm?"

"Like I wouldn't mind."

Violet shakes her head. Again. She turns around and pushes herself into Clementine's arms, bringing her own up around the sides of the girl's head and holding fast.

She can feel the tremble in her limbs, but Clementine tightens her grip.

Sometimes, it's easy to forget that she's younger. She'll likely never be taller than Violet but, generally, she's calm in the face of other's panic. At Ericson, the counsellors always used to tell the kids to _breathe through it_ , and this was fine at face value — unless you were Marlon, who had little time for anyone telling him how to conduct himself — or Minnie, who at first frequently upturned the counsellor's tables in frustration — or Violet, who often focused on breathing so hard that she flew off the handle and straight into hyperventilating.

In time, of course, everyone found the thing that worked for them.

Violet concentrates now on the fabric of Clementine's sweater beneath her fingers; the soft, fuzzy kind of chenille that Violet would have ruined in days. She closes her eyes and listens to the hum of the refrigerator, the AJ-sized footsteps on the stairs in the hall, and feels the hot fan of Clementine's sigh across her neck.

Her heartbeat realigns.

The thud in Violet's chest begins to slow and is compensated instead only by a soft prickle across the back of her neck.

"I can't miss seein' you in that dress, can I?" she chokes eventually.

Clementine snickers.

"You could always see me out of it."

"Lee'll have an aneurysm."

"I don’t mean in church."

"Shit, I know that!"

She lets Clementine pull away, just enough to allow Violet's arms to fall onto her shoulders and to look her in the face. The grin on Clementine's lips is softening into earnest and she says,

"I don’t know what I’m supposed to do."

"Nothin’," says Violet. "I’m being’ stupid."

"So you're coming to Mass with us? With me?"

"Ya..." Violet nods.

She is.

She has no business having a moment in the kitchen because AJ has told his own family that he loves them. Hell, he’ll likely tell Violet too before the next day is through.

Clementine smiles.

"Do I still get to see you without the dress, though," asks Violet, "or what?"

And it's as they're kissing, with Clementine giggling happily against Violet's mouth, that Lee begins to enter the kitchen, makes a coughing sound and immediately backtracks.

"See," says Violet, "I told you!"

Clementine keeps hold of Violet's hand throughout the service. If she notices the sweat on Violet's palm or between her fingers, she doesn't say anything, simply hoists the lyric pamphlet higher whilst Violet attempts to dredge up the tune of _God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen_ and avoid the eye of the organist. 

Clementine isn't the best vocalist, thinks Violet, whenher voice cracks under the strain of the high notes (and the low), but all the same, it’s comforting to stand close enough to hear her voice above the others. AJ spends the majority of the carols exchanges glances and giggles with the other little boy, on the adjacent pew, and that helps a whole lot too.

Even Kenny doesn’t notice because he’s gazing up at the priest and nodding in agreement with tears down his cheeks.

When the collection plate comes around, sure enough, in goes $50.

He tells Lee later, when they're all standing outside the church and shaking hands, wishing happy holidays to the other members of the congregation, that he'll see them around 2 pm. His son is spending the morning with his mom. Kenny says they'll all be along after he's picked him up, with gifts and Christmas pudding in tow.

Lee doesn't mention the turkey.

He fastens AJ into the car as Carley is kissing Sarita and then Kenny on the cheek and they drive home, with AJ falling asleep finally in the passenger seat.

Violet's fingers are still linked around Clementine's. She and Lee talk quietly but with excitement about the plans for the morning — about who will open the first present, who will eat the last advent chocolate, and whether they'll have a decent breakfast or else end up snacking on mince pies until it's time to get dressed. Violet watches, as does Carley, and at one point they catch each other's eye and smile, small, but noticeable.

Snow is falling again by the time they arrive home.

Lee has to fireman's lift a deadweight AJ in order to get him into the house, but it's evident he's woken up by the time Lee gets him to bed, because Violet hears them, as she passes the bedroom with her toothbrush, reciting the poem,

" _'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirrin', not even a mouse_."

"Am I the mouse?" asks AJ.

Lee laughs.

Now Violet lies in bed in Clementine's room, with Clementine's calf draped heavily over hers and the duvet around their shoulders. Clementine's breath is fanning warmly over the pillows towards Violet and, as the Christmas lights from outside bleed in through the curtain, Violet can't help but marvel at how thick Clementine's lashes lie against her cheekbones.

At how lucky she is to be here, on Christmas.

So far, no one has cried (at least out of sadness), no one has argued and the closest anyone has been to drunk and disorderly is when Omid had tripped over the doorstep on his way out.

The clock beside the photo of Clementine's parents reads 5:45 am.

In a couple of hours, the house will stir again. AJ will be the first downstairs, shouting, and soon after Lee will emerge, asking,

"Has he been? Has he been?"

Carley will allegedly manage to eat her way through two Christmas dinners — one with the Everetts and one with her parents — before returning in the evening, when Kenny has decided that charades is the best way forward.

"You okay?" Clementine mumbles.

She doesn't open her eyes, but she must have woken with Violet, shifting to shake the pins and needles out of her arm.

She has a kind of sixth sense with things like this.

If Violet is awake, then so is Clem.

But Violet doesn't have time to reply. She has barely nodded, although her girlfriend can't see it, or raised her hand to tuck Clementine's hair behind her ear, when there's a quiet knock at the door. AJ's face appears in the shadows when he cracks it open.

"Clem?" he hisses.

There is little fear or caution in his voice tonight.

Violet has seen it happen before — the late-night wanderings onto the landing or down the stairs; sometimes into Clementine's room. They've both fallen over AJ when he's fallen asleep once or twice, on their way to the bathroom. But tonight, this morning, no. He's excited. His wide eyes and beaming smile are visible even in the darkness in the hall. Clementine hmphs and she opens her eyes.

"He's here," says AJ. "I saw him going downstairs."

"Who's here?" Clementine asks.

Slowly she shakes herself round and turns over, sitting up, to face him.

"There aren't any reindeer — I looked out of the window!"

"Why aren't you asleep?"

"He's been in my room!"

"Oh," says Violet.

She keeps her voice low. Clementine is still squinting across at her brother, as if she's forgotten the date and festivities despite the gingerbread men on her pyjamas and stocking at the foot of her bed.

"I'm going to see."

And like that, AJ is gone.

Clementine sags back into her pillows, rubbing her face. Violet waits. She counts the seconds. She's about to ask if Lee makes a habit of dressing as Santa, when he puts out the presents, or if AJ will be about to find him in Walmart pyjamas, but Clementine's eyelids fly open mid-rub and suddenly, she's alert.

"Oh no!" she gasps. "AJ!"

Out on the landing, AJ shushes both girls as they dash barefoot towards him. He's beginning to creep steadily down the stairs, towards the faint glow of light from the living room doorway, where Lee — or, as he thinks, Santa Claus — is laying out the gifts.

"Santa won't leave anything if you're wide awake!" Clementine hisses. Already she's started to descend after her brother.

"Yeah, right." There's a laugh in AJ's voice. "He did last year."

"Lee begged him to let you keep everything," she says. "He had to talk Santa round —"

"C'mon!"

"What?"

"Clem, I'm almost grown-up."

"What d'you mean?"

For a moment, both Clementine — it seems — and Violet share the dreadful thought that already, AJ knows that Santa Claus isn't real. Violet isn't sure if she's ever believed — at least not after Grandad — but all the same, she remembers that Louis had maintained that the magic was real until he was almost a teenager.

Marlon, pulsing with anger too extreme to be properly harnessed by a 12-year-old, would have beat Anthony, who broke the bad news, into a pulp if it wasn't for the teacher's invention.

Louis had cried for hours.

Marlon had comforted him, after getting out of isolation, by explaining that _yeah, it's a lie, but then so is Tooth Fairy and whatever, man, Anthony's gonna have that scar for the rest of his life._

Thankfully, the words that come next out of AJ's mouth prompt a sigh of relief from Clementine and Violet's shoulders relax.

"You don't need to be asleep," says AJ. "You just can't get in the way. 'Cause Santa's real busy."

"Oh yeah?"

Clem nods. She hurries down the last couple of steps and wraps her arm around AJ's shoulders. He's still staring off towards the living room and by now, Violet is close enough too to hear the shifting of boxes and jingle of bells as gifts are pushed beneath the tree.

"How long can he spend in each house?" Clementine asks.

AJ pulls a face.

"I dunno," he tells her. "Not very long!"

"If there are 380 million people in America —"

And Violet interjects. "Ya," she snorts, "he just visits the US, right? Fuck the rest of the world."

"Vi!" says Clem. But she colours. "No, okay, so, he goes to... the UK and... Finland. Russia. He goes to Australia. How long then?"

"Stop!" AJ tells her. "I don't know. It's a big number."

"That's why he's magic," says Clem. "You can't watch him work."

"I want to see if he eats the cookies."

"You'll know in the morning."

"It _is_ the morning!"

"No, it isn't!"

"It sorta is," says Violet.

She drops to her knees, on the stair beside AJ. He has a smug grin on his face, like he knows he's won, and Violet attempts to match it.

"Why don't I go down," she offers, "jus' to check. And I won't let him see you."

"Deal," says AJ.

So off she goes.

She doesn't expect AJ to follow at her heel like a puppy, but at this point, there's little Violet can do. She waves at him to stay back as she approaches the living room.

"Is he there?" whispers AJ.

"Wait," Violet breathes.

She creeps forwards. Her hand comes up against the pinewood door and she dares to push it open another fraction.

Lee meets her eye — in a second, he panics, because sure enough he's standing in the Christmas Walmart pyjamas, unloading the presents while he drinks the milk meant for Santa — but Violet gasps for dramatic effect. She pulls the door shut with a bang and turns to scoop AJ up in her arms.

"No," she says loudly, as she runs with him squirming through to the kitchen, "you can't go in there!"

"What are you doing?" cries Clementine.

"I think he saw me!"

"No!" yells AJ.

"Yes," says Violet.

But AJ wrestles. He's a strong little guy when he wants to be and Violet barely makes it off the carpet and onto the tiles before dropping him again, with Clementine hot on her trail. She grabs for AJ's hand instead and pulls him down to hide behind the island.

She doesn't have a plan.

She just wants to keep AJ out of eye-line of the living room door so that hopefully, Lee can sneak back upstairs without much trouble.

"What did he look like?" asks AJ.

"Big," says Violet, "with a fluffy coat."

"Was it red?"

"Ya, now hush up!"

"Did he _really_ see you? What if you don't get any presents?"

"I thought it didn't matter," whispers Clem.

"Ssh!" says Violet.

And finally, they quieten.

Violet lowers herself to sit on the floor. Boxing AJ in on the other side is Clementine, still crouched on the balls of her feet, and she keeps glancing around the side of the counter. AJ is listening. It's evident from his expression that he's keeping his ears open for any suggestion of movement and is staring, unseeingly, off towards the ceiling.

If Santa's reindeer are parked on the roof, he'll be the first to realise.

If Clementine is purposefully keeping watch of the hallway for signs of Lee, he isn't to know.

She catches Violet's gaze and mouths, "What are we doing?"

Violet shakes her head. She has to look away before she starts to laugh because she hadn't expected to be hunched on the kitchen floor at 6 am either.

But then, from outside in the hallway, there's the distinct click of a door closing. Footsteps. The staircase creaks.

AJ inhales.

Clementine tightens her grip on his arm forearm, the one with the scar from where he broke it, and makes to look around the counter again. Her eyes settle rather on the worktop above them.

"Oh, no," she groans, "Lee didn't take the turkey out."

It seems to Violet as if she blinks and it's morning again.

She and Clementine had succeeded, when it was safe, in luring AJ back to bed — although not to his bed, exactly. She wakes with a start to the little boy bouncing on his knees in between her and Clementine, giddy and with more energy than is fair, given the six hours or so of shut-eye they'd all managed.

"Come on!" AJ is shouting.

He's pulling at the duvet.

For a moment, Violet considers turning over and trying to drift off again but then Clementine's laughter, slow and heavy with sleep, is floating up from the pillow.

"Gimme a minute."

"Now, Clem!" AJ begs. "Look, you've got presents too, in your stocking. Get up, get up!"

"Wait," says Clem.

Her fingers worm beneath the fabric of Violet's t-shirt, to curl around her waist as she snuggles closer.

"Morning," she mumbles, through a yawn, against the shell of Violet's ear. "It's Christmas."

"As if I hadn't noticed."

"Alright, so I _won't_ kiss you."

Violet twists her head with a chuckle.

"That's not what I said," she hums.

She presses a kiss to Clementine's sleepy, smiling mouth, and AJ increases his shaking at both of their legs.

"Gross, come on!"

"Look in the other direction," Clementine tells him.

Instead, he whines and flings himself off the bed, running for the door. He must collide with Carley in the hallway, because the woman lets out an _oomph!_ and AJ apologies quickly. His socked footsteps thunder down the stairs.

"Girls," shouts Carley, "are you getting up?"

"I avoid goin' in there when they're together," comes Lee's voice.

Carley laughs.

"Oh, you're such an old prude!"

"That's my little girl!"

"We've just woken up," groans Clementine.

Whatever mood, whatever peaceful morning she might have been angling for, is quickly dispelled.

Carley is tittering, still out of view.

"Best time for it," she mutters, and then screams happily, presumably following a jab to the ribs from Lee.

"Stop it," he says.

"They won't miss us for ten minutes," Clementine reasons.

She lets Violet turn into her arms as from downstairs they hear AJ start to shriek and Lee calls out that yeah, he's coming now. Bright, snow-white light is seeping from beneath the curtains with a hint of sunshine. Already there are likely to be families running out to their respective cars, rattling the door handles, laden with gifts and eager to get on with their days. There will be carol singers gathered in the park before too long and the kids from the trailer opposite Violet's will be cutting about on new bikes and scooters.

This year, Violet won't be around to rescue their ball from the roof until at least the 28th, but they'll make do. They'll throw snowballs at the door until her dad comes out, shouting, and threatens to burst it. Violet won't have to apologise in lieu to their parents, nor make the trek back to Minnie's house only hours after leaving.

Lee has made it clear she can stay as long as she likes.

Although there is still an entire day ahead, again, Violet feels hopeful. She wants to believe that everything will be peaceful and prays that whatever fears she still harbours will be pacified with Clementine beside her. She smiles into her girlfriend's hair; thinks once of her mom, laying the Christmas dinner down on the table in front of her dad, and then no more.

"Merry Christmas," says Violet.

"Merry Christmas," says Clem.

**Author's Note:**

> Not so fun fact: After a rough couple of years, I cried my eyes out when I first spent Christmas with my at-the-time boyfriend, with relief and happiness. When we broke up, I spent two more years jumping from friend to friend in a desperate bid to have a stereotypically good Christmas, absolutely terrified to go back to way it had been before. I like to think everything's good now, but yeah, they were dark times.
> 
> I also knew the Santas in shopping centres weren't real when I was young, but I loved them anyway because my mum told me that Father Christmas employed them. He was too busy to see all the children in person during the one month. My girlfriend, on the other hand, never really believed in Father Christmas, and always tried to catch her dad coming downstairs with the presents.
> 
> Big thanks to the song [two queens in a king sized bed](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Su9ABA6RcV8) by girl in red for inspiring my sapphic Christmas morning mood.
> 
> Happy holidays and let's pray for a better new year.


End file.
